Then the wind suddenly fell; and the ships were becalmed
directly opposite the narrow entrance of a two-horned cove sheltered by
the mountains. The small boats had all been mustered out to tow the
two ships in, when a slight breeze sprang up. The flotilla drifted
inland just as three canoes, carved in bizarre shapes of birds' heads
and eagle claws, came paddling across the inlet. Three savages were in
one, six in the other, ten in the third. They came slowly over the
water, singing some song of welcome, beating time with their paddles,
{186} scattering downy white feathers on the air, at intervals standing
up to harangue a welcome to the newcomers. Soon thirty canoes were
around the ships with some ten warriors in each. Still they came,
shoals of them, like fish, with savages almost naked, the harbor smooth
as glass, the grand _tyee_, or great chief of the tribes, standing
erect shouting a welcome, with long elf-locks streaming down his back.
Women and children now appeared in the canoes. That meant peace. The
women were chattering like magpies; the men gurgling and spluttering
their surprise at the white visitors.
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